Voices in your head

They say that the voice in the back of your head is that of your parents. That the way the speak to you, the way you understood their feelings, and they way they made you feel are always with you.

I’m thinking about this because of recent trips to the hair salon and the dentist. I really don’t like getting my hair cut or seeing the dentist. Really don’t like is an understatement.

I have a long list of getting bad hair cuts in Beijing but most of all I dread sitting in the chair and trying to communicate how I want my hair cut and then nodding its “ok” just to finish the totute. My typical hair cut routine is to take one of the kids or Sabrina to communicate how I want my hair cut. The basic gist is I want it short so that I won’t need to come back for a long time. They never cut it short enough and because of my bald spot they have left my hair long in front which I hate as my hair is always in my eyes and itches my nose. So last weekend I decided I’m going to really get it cut short. I went by myself. I showed the barber how short from the top (very short). This confused home so he asked me (via a translation app) to show him photos of haircut style I wanted. I had prepared for that and showed him the photos. Didn’t help. So I called Sabrina and she talked with him and asked me to show him how short I wanted it. I showed him again, exactly as I had done before. Apparently he was worried it would show too much of my face and not leave enough hair to cover the bald spot (as if I’m doing a comb over). When he was done the hair stylist followed me to the counter where I paid. Was he expecting a tip? I smiled, thanked him, and left.

My mom used to cut my hair, at least until high school, in the the kitchen of 704. There wasn’t a lot of interaction about what style of hair cut I wanted. Actually, the concept that I could get a specific kind of cut never crossed my mind. Later my dad would take me to a barber on San Bruno ave. A lot of guy talk that I didn’t get it. Not a lot of say in the hair style either. I remember being very curios about how much it cost and if you left a tip.

The dental visit was this weekend. I remember one of my dad’s goto stories was about a dentist. I forget the specifics. Someone needed a lot of dental work (him? a sibling?) which would cost a lot of money. They found someone else to do the work (a school?) and the needed work wasn’t as extensive as the first dentist said. The morale of the story was never to trust dentists. Well, any professional service was not to be trusted. Auto shops, never dealers, accountants, insurance, but most of dentists. They will wreck your teeth and wallet in a heartbeat.

I’ve kept the distrust of dentists very close to me. Four years ago when I saw a dentist for a teeth cleaning my mind was set that I would not get any work done. That the only way they would earn my trust was to say my teeth were perfect and come back in a year for another cleaning. Well, they said I had three cavities and showed me closeups. I did not get them fixed and I never returned. That was my last dentist visit until yesterday when I made an appointment with a local chain with “english service”. Surely I was about to be ripped off.

The dentist initially spoke to me in Chinese — it is not surprising for foreigners here to be fluent, it is surprising when they are as illiterate as me — and then switched to English. She explained everything clearly as she inspected my teeth. Three cavities, two of which were different than the place four years ago but the ones she pointed made sense. When she started to clean she said “we have some work to do”. Then it came time to fill the cavities. She said they were not too deep so she would not be using anesthetic. Just raise my hand if it got to uncomfortable (this would be difficult as my hands were already dug into my thighs). In fact it was not (that) uncomfortable and I noted that it seemed the dental equipment had come a long ways. I thought about my dad during the procedure but especially when the bill for 2000 RMB (about $290 USD) came. My insurance covered almost all of it.

As much as I want my parent’s voices to be outside of me, they are inside of me, as much as my core as anything. As much as I don’t want to follow those voices when they leave me not speaking for myself or not trusting others, I often do. As much as I am able to find my own voice, I do. As much as I am able to leave my children with a voice of self respect, a voice of humility, a voice of trust, I do.

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